


This Above All - To Thine Own Self Be True

by alianne



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alianne/pseuds/alianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Hamlet and Horatio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Above All - To Thine Own Self Be True

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neoinean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoinean/gifts).



I.

Hamlet looked at the bewildered Horatio. “But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?” he repeated curiously.

Horatio’s mind raced, rejecting the answer after answer, searching for one that would be believed. Finally, he smiled broadly. “A truant disposition, good my lord,” he replied, hoping Hamlet would remember.

Over their books one night at school Hamlet had stood up, slammed his text shut, reached over to close Horatio’s, and as he pulled his friend away from their study declared them truant for the night. They had fled the close confines of the library and exchanged papers for pints, laughing their way through the tavern. Horatio remembered sitting at the table, watching Hamlet flit from woman to woman, first one who leaned over a little too far, now one who laughed a little too loud. Horatio had let him go for nearly the entire night, but when Horatio looked up from his current meaningless conversation and espied Hamlet allowing this one to lead him upstairs, Horatio had felt it time to step in.

He had taken Hamlet by the arm and directed him outside. Horatio had not trusted Hamlet not to fall off his own horse, so, flipping the stableboy some coins and directives, Horatio helped Hamlet onto Horatio’s horse and climbed up after him. With one arm clasped around Hamlet he guided the black horse back towards home. Horatio had been acutely aware of Hamlet’s lean form in front of him. Not fully awake and not yet asleep, Hamlet had rolled his head back and pressed against Horatio’s shoulder, keeping close to the other man as Horatio ignored the laughing calls of ‘drunkard’ echoing from the tavern.

A few more coins at the next stable secured had care for the mount, and Horatio turned himself and his attention to getting Hamlet off the horse and into bed. Hamlet slid down into Horatio’s waiting arms, but stumbled in his sliding so that in two steps and a blink Hamlet had Horatio pinned against the wall beneath him. The two friends stood there for a moment, Hamlet’s breath hard and fast, Horatio’s quick gasp barely audible. Horatio froze, unwilling to move either closer or away, holding himself still until Hamlet finally had rocked back onto his heels and staggered back towards the main building. With every intention to follow and make sure Hamlet made it to his chamber, Horatio had instead slid down the wall and spent the next half-hour on the hard-packed dirt floor, head in hishands.

The next morning he had asked Hamlet what he thought of the previous night and had been greeted with Hamlet’s bellow of laughter and account of the time in the tavern. Hamlet ended with the simple question, “And how did I get home?”

Horatio had not answered.

 

II.

“It waves me still,” Hamlet gasped, his voice ripping from his throat to grate at Horatio. Horatio gripped Hamlet tighter as Hamlet twisted in his grasp once more, turning again to face the ghost. Horatio’s hand slipped and Hamlet seized the moment, wrenching his arm away. Hamlet stumbled towards the ghost even as Horatio fell to the ground.

“Go on, I’ll follow thee!” Hamlet called.

Hamlet had taken but two steps away from Horatio when silent Barnardo stepped forward to block him. Marcellus too blocked Hamlet, and the two guardsmen corralled him. A gasp and nod from Horatio as he rose was all the permission Marcellus needed to physically restrain his liege.

“You shall not go.” Marcellus’ voice was low and firm. “My lord –“

“Hold off your hands!” Hamlet cried out, trying to break free of the guards grasp. Barnardo looked pleadingly to Horatio as Marcellus braced himself. Horatio stepped in, putting himself between Hamlet and the Ghost. Hamlet’s eyes were wild as he looked over Horatio’s shoulder, straining to see his father. Hamlet’s feet scraped over the frozen ground, skidding over the frosty leaves. His breath hung in the chilly air in gasps and fits.  
Brawny Marcellus threw all his weight towards restraining Hamlet.

Horatio absently brushed dirt clinging to his coat as he examined his friend. For all the times he had seen Hamlet in an emotional frenzy, he had never seen the desperation that he saw now. Horatio reached out and gripped Hamlet’s jaw, forcing Hamlet to look directly at him. “Be ruled,” he said. “ _You shall not go._ ”

Hamlet let out a short bark of laughter and drew to stillness. He matched Horatio’s breath, his eyes tracing the other man’s face. “My fate cries out,” Hamlet said in a voice barely audible, “and makes each petty arture in this body as hardy as the Nemean lion’s nerve.” Horatio let his gaze fall to Hamlet’s jaw, his neck, noting as he did how each sinew of Hamlet’s neck stood out. A lion’s nerve, indeed – the man’s strength and determination were clearly apparent in every line of his body. Horatio tensed up, knowing even as he did that he would be unable to force Hamlet to do anything, not with the unnatural force his friend currently possessed.

Hamlet kept his head still as he slowly raised his hand. He gently ran his fingers down Horatio’s forearm, tracing up the tension in Horatio’s neck to cup his chin. Horatio looked back into Hamlet’s eyes, seeking an answer. After seconds has stretched to minutes, slowly Horatio lowered his hand till it was resting on the hilt of his sword. He looked back at Hamlet’s set face and drew the sword, twisting it around to offer to Hamlet hilt-first. Horatio paused, and Hamlet’s touch on his chin tightened briefly. Hamlet bent his head towards Horatio, reaching out to grip the sword. “Still I am called,” he whispered gently.

Horatio let out the breath he had been holding as he stepped back. Hamlet shook his shoulders. “Unhand me, gentlemen,” he spoke loudly to the confused Marcellus and Barnardo. The sword in his hand twitched. “I’ll make a ghost of him that lets me. I say, away!”

The guardsmen dropped back a pace to stand with Horatio, who watched as his friend deteriorated from the still and resolute man back to the distressed and desperate son. Hamlet blinked, and the Ghost beckoned again, receding into the forest.

Hamlet gasped and leapt after him. “Go on,” he called, running. “I’ll follow thee!” The sound of footsteps grew fainter as Hamlet raced away.

Horatio shook his head, trying to clear the feeling of Hamlet’s fingers from his mind. “He waxes desperate with imagination,” he muttered, unclear if he was speaking of Hamlet or himself.

Marcellus politely ignored this as he turned in the direction of the disappeared Hamlet. “Let’s follow,” he said, informing rather than asking Horatio. “’Tis not fit thus to obey him.”

Horatio nodded to the soldier. “Have after,” he agreed. Marcellus gestured sharply and Barnardo trotted through the forest in the direction Hamlet had left. Horatio sighed, looking up at the stars. “To what issue will this come?”

Marcellus exhaled sharply. “ _Something_ is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

“Heaven will direct it.” Horatio prayed.

Marcellus pulled Horatio forward. “Nay, let’s follow him.”

Horatio nodded, and the men chased after their leader into the dark.

 

III.

The hallway was dark and Horatio had been drinking, but here was Hamlet and the hallway was empty and it didn’t take much for Horatio to push Hamlet up against the tapestry, for they offered slightly more give than the hard stone walls, and press his lips to Hamlet’s, knocking Hamlet’s hat off in the process. Time spun in place, Horatio’s mind whirling, when Hamlet pressed back.

Moments flickered by as Horatio tried to process that this was happening. Doublets thrown open, garters undone, and hands, hands pushing at clothing and dropping leggings to ankles. Mouths and heat and pressure and gasps –

– and then Hamlet gently shoved Horatio away, pulled up his clothes, and fled down the hall. He threw open the door to Ophelia’s chamber, leaving Horatio with a hand pressed to his lips and a buzzing in his ears, wide-eyed staring after.

 

IV.

Horatio trailed behind Hamlet, half-listening as Hamlet instructed the Players in the art of acting. Hamlet did know what he was going on about, but Horatio had a suspicion that the Players were putting up with their patron’s directions because he lined their pockets well. Horatio had been waiting for a time to speak to Hamlet alone after their incident in the hallway, but Hamlet had been so closely flanked by Rosenstern and Guildencrantz that Horatio hadn’t been able to reach him.

“What ho, Horatio!”

Hamlet’s voice jolted Horatio out of his thoughts, and Horatio realized that Hamlet was alone. He quickly crossed the space between them. “Here sweet lord– ” Horatio caught himself before he fell into old patterns. “At your service.”

Hamlet coughed awkwardly. “Horatio, thou are e’en as just a man as e’er my conversation coped withal,” he began, to Horatio’s embarrassment.

“O, my dear lord.” Horatio murmured, flicking his eyes up to the heavens.

“Nay, do not think I flatter,” Hamlet pressed on, “for what advancement may I hope from thee that no revenue has but thy good spirits to feed and clothe thee?”

Horatio winced slightly. So they were back to Horatio’s poverty versus Hamlet’s kingdom. Hamlet must surely know that his wealth and status made no difference to their friendship. “Dost thou hear?” Hamlet reached out to grasp Horatio by the arm, forcing Horatio to focus his attention on the present and not the past.

“Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice and could of men distinguish, her election hath sealed thee for herself. For thou hast been as one in suffering all that suffers nothing – a man that Fortune’s buffets and rewards hast ta’en with equal thanks.” Horatio shivered as Hamlet’s eyes caressed him. “Blessed are those whose blood and judgment are so well commeddled that they are not a pipe for Fortune’s finger to sound what stop she please.”

Horatio blinked, unwilling to believe what was happening. Hamlet was talking at even more cross-purposes than usual, and Horatio must be misunderstanding again. Horatio knew not to expect anything, but the way that Hamlet was looking at him made things seem all sorts of grey, the black and white of the court falling away into a blur of background noise.

Hamlet stepped closer. “Give me a man that is not passion’s slave,” he said softly, “and I will wear him in my heart’s core.” Hamlet’s voice trailed off as he stepped even closer, his body pressing against Horatio’s as he brought his mouth to Horatio’s ear. Horatio’s chest jerked with quick drawn breath and he felt Hamlet smile against his cheek. “Ay,” Hamlet whispered, his voice for Horatio alone. “In my heart of heart – as I do thee.”

Horatio drew back his head back in shock. He stared at Hamlet. Hamlet nodded slowly, and Horatio allowed the other man to draw him close. _Shades of gray?_ Horatio rejected that color as Hamlet slowly, deliberately laid a line of soft kisses down his jaw. _Rose and violet, exploding sunrises…_ Horatio turned his head and Hamlet caught his mouth, gently teasing and exploring.

A noise from a passing guardsman echoed in the hall and caused both men to take a quick step back, the moment broken but the understanding remaining. Hamlet shook his head as if to clear it as Horatio blinked rapidly, afraid the image in front of him would disappear. “Something too much of this!,” Hamlet said with a smile. He rubbed his hands together briskly and began pacing as the smile fell from his face, lines of worry furrowing his brow again.

“There is a play tonight,” he began, and Horatio nodded, once more putting his emotions aside to turn his attention to Hamlet’s problematic play.

 

V.

Horatio could not believe what surrounded him. The Queen, dead on the stairs. The King, gripping his side and gasping on the dais. And Hamlet, his friend, his lover, bleeding in his arms. “Horatio, I am dead,” Hamlet murmured as Horatio shook his head, refusing to believe it so. “Thou livest; report me and my cause aright to the unsatisfied.”

Horatio’s eyes glinted with unshed tears as he ignored his orders. “Never believe it,” he croaked, knowing even as he spoke there was no use. He scanned the room and saw the dreadful poison cup. Such a cup! To have caused so much pain, to wipe so much away – a solution, then to wipe away awareness of the pain? Horatio reached out and drew it towards him.

“I am more an antique Roman than a Dane,” he said, looking into the cup. “Here’s yet some liquor left.” The only way out, the only way away, joining his Hamlet for all time. Horatio raised the cup to his lips only to have it grabbed out of the way with more force than he expected Hamlet capable of.

“Give me the cup!” Hamlet said firmly as he struggled with Horatio, who refused to relinquish grip. “Let go – By heaven, I’ll ha ‘t!” Hamlet gasped as Horatio suddenly released the cup. “O God, Horatio…” Horatio bent over Hamlet, stroking the clammy brow. He held his breath to listen to Hamlet’s weakened voice. “If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, absent thee from felicity awhile - ” Hamlet’s voice rose to cover Horatio’s ragged cry “ – and in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain to tell my story.”

The same order, once more repeated. Horatio’s tears fell onto Hamlet’s face as he inclined his head in final acquiescence. Hamlet knew well the pain Horatio would suffer, knew what he was asking. And yet he asked. Horatio accepted the burden.

The sound of armored men marching echoed down the corridor and Hamlet turned his head towards the door. “What warlike noise is this?”

Osric, the petrified footman, spoke without turning from the window where he stood. “Young Fortinbras, with conquest comes from Poland - to th’ ambassadors of England he gives this warlike volley.”

“Oh!” The cry ripped ragged from Hamlet’s throat, striking Horatio like a dagger. Hamlet slumped in final defeat. The loss of his kingdom cut his spirit where no foil could. “O, I die, Horatio! I cannot live to hear the news from England. But I do prophesy th’ election lights on Fortinbras; he has my dying voice.” A gasp. Horatio could not help admiring the will with which Hamlet refused to allow his kingdom to fall to a ruler not in name appointed by himself. He braced himself as Hamlet continued, “So tell him, with th’ occurrents, more and less which have solicited.” The orders a third time. He would not be forgotten. Horatio opened his mouth to say as much, but Hamlet reached a weak hand up to lay a finger across Horatio’s lips. “The rest is silence.”

Horatio closed his mouth as Hamlet’s hand fell limply back to his side. He sunk into Horatio’s lap, and Horatio closed his eyes.

“Now cracks a noble heart.” He bent down and gently kissed Hamlet’s forehead. Horatio carefully laid Hamlet down, crossing his arms. His hand lingered on Hamlet, not moving as Barnardo barreled into the room, signaling the entrance of Fortinbras. Marcellus, close on his heels, took in the room with a glance and swiftly crossed to kneel opposite Horatio, beside the fallen prince.

Horatio looked out the window at the setting sun, and back to the man at his feet. “Good night, sweet prince,” he said softly, “And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

Horatio blinked once to clear the tears from his eyes, and turned to receive Fortinbras.


End file.
